We break away as the music begins again, run from the light and the faces towards the darkness that hides us. His hand in mine. Once, I turn back to see if anyone watches. Gabriel looks towards us but he’s talking to the blacksmith’s daughter and I don’t think he notices us leave.

Other lovers will be in the woods, but I know already where he’s taking me. We’ve barely reached the riverbank when we stumble to a stop, hands still clasped. The air is cooler here and I feel the heat of his skin, step closer.

His chest heaves from dancing and running. He lifts a strand of my hair, entwined with flowers, shakes his head a little. ‘You look beautiful tonight. You’re always beautiful.’

He presses his lips to my own, tasting of ale and the sweet pudding I made earlier, and he kisses me so that I feel he will not ever stop. I don’t ever want to stop.

The ground rough beneath me, the river babbling in the night. And us. Nothing more. I want this, I know I want it with every part of me, only here and only him. Daniel pushing my petticoat higher. My breath coming faster. Yet my hands shake as I unlace his tunic, I’m clumsy, tangle the ties. He breaks off, looks down at the mess I’m making, laughs.

‘Here, let me,’ he says, sitting back, unpicking the knots. ‘There.’ He strokes my face. ‘Are you happy?’

‘So happy.’

His smile fades and he drops his head. I know why. I sit up, place my hand on his tunic. ‘Are you not?’ I ask.

‘No, I am.’ He laughs a little. ‘I couldn’t be more – it’s you, and you’re so beautiful. It’s just, I – we are not yet wed and – to sin this way.’

I should free him, cover myself, catch my breath and walk away. But I cannot. The yearning is too great to let him go so easily. ‘We shall be married,’ I say. ‘We’ll have our house and you shall farm and we will have that life, Daniel. God knows that we shall.’

‘And you will bake the bread.’

‘And we’ll dance and –’

We speak together, laughing. ‘– and eat flawn.’

I lie back down. He follows. ‘God knows we shall be wed,’ he says.

‘Then it’s not such a sin,’ I say. Though really, just now, I don’t care if it is.

Crisp and Brittle